


A Tale of When the Line was Drawn

by CrazyKater



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyKater/pseuds/CrazyKater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Slash* 4th in the series.  Sequel to A Tale of Starsky A Tale of Starsky, the Man he Loved, and the Woman he Didn't</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of When the Line was Drawn

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago, posted it on my LJ and forgot to post it here. *Facepalm* This probably will make the final story in this series make a lot more sense...

 

_“People who truly love us can be divided into two categories: those who understand us, and those who forgive us our worst sins. Rarely do you find someone capable of both.” -Jonathan Carroll_

 

It was later than usual. Almost noon.

 

Starsky found himself sitting in the Torino parked in the lot behind the little bar on Third Street. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and wondered if Alice would still be sitting in the bar or somebody else had already come along. Absently, he wondered what he was going to with the morning if she had already left with someone else. Then he wondered if he really even cared.

 

He shouldn’t be there. He knew that. What he needed to do was put his keys back in the ignition and head home. Back to someone who cared. Back to Hutch, who knew him for who he was, but loved him anyway.

 

And Hutch really did love him. In spite of everything Starsky had done.

 

Hutch knew all about Alice.

 

Starsky had confessed to him, not so long ago, and in not in so many words, what was going on. Hutch hadn’t said anything. His silence telling Starsky that despite his confession, his partner had known for a while.

 

Hutch had looked at him, his big blue eyes full of disappointment and pain, and that should have been the end of it. But Starsky knew, even then, loving Hutch wasn’t enough to make him stop fooling around with Alice.

 

He wouldn’t stop. Because he couldn't stop. Stopping meant facing his worst fears, and Starsky wasn’t sure he could ever do that.

 

The bar was dark. Pushing through the door, Starsky blinked a few times before his eyes adjusted to surroundings. He surveyed the room, assessing the crowd of unknown faces. The early afternoon brought a very different group to the bar than Starsky was accustomed to drinking with.

 

It was random group. Old and young. Some people hiding away from the world. Others intending to do something better left undone. Just like him.

 

Starsky turned his gaze to their normal spot, and the familiar blond sitting alone at the end of the bar, nursing half-filled drink. He pursed his lips and lingered at the entrance. Letting out a taxed breath, Starsky ran his hands through his unruly curls, and wondered what he was doing there.

 

What were either of them doing there?

 

Starsky blinked a few times, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to turn and go, and, yet, he wanted to stay.

 

The decision was made for him, however, as the bartender nodded his way, bringing the blond's attention to the door. Blue eyes met his own and Starsky had no choice but to make his way to the bar.

 

The bartender gave him a questioning look as Starsky sat awkwardly next to the blond.  

 

"Whiskey. Neat," he ordered gruffly.

 

Same order to ease same ache in his heart.

 

The bartender set up his drink and Starsky slammed it in one swallow. He grimaced at the taste, and covered his mouth with his hand when his stomach protested to such a strong liquid on an empty stomach. There would be no conversation with his companion until he had enough alcohol to sooth his moral anguish.

 

And today he would need more than usual.

 

Starsky waved at the bartender to set him up another. It was gone just as quickly, as was the third. Starsky pretended not to notice the concerned blue eyes of his seatmate. He hardly ordered more than one, and more than two was unheard of.

 

Whiskey had never been a favorite, but it did the job better than anything else. Starsky found it numbed him quickly and efficiently.

 

Fourth shot gone, Starsky indicated for another, despite his stomach, but a hand grasped his arm and pushed his hand back to the bar.

 

“Don’t you think that’s enough?” the soft voice asked.

 

No. Starsky’s eyes fell and he bit his lip. It would never be enough. Not for the conversation he knew they were about to have.

 

The bartender raised his eyebrows at Starsky, then shrugged his shoulders and walked away. The man wanted no part of it of what was about to go down.

 

"What are you doing here?" Starsky breathed.  

 

"I gave your girl the day off," Hutch answered gruffly. He pulled his hand off of Starsky and took another sip of his drink.

 

“She’s not my girl.”

 

“Yeah,” Hutch snorted rolling his eyes.

 

He ran his finger over the lip of his glass, the movement bringing Starsky’s attention to the liquid. His eyes widened as he realized Hutch wasn’t drinking alcohol but ice water instead.

 

At least one of them could control themselves.

 

“So… this is what you do before, huh?” Hutch spoke quietly and looked at Starsky with disapproving eyes. “Get shitty off whiskey so you don’t have to feel anything?”

 

The words were harsh and Starsky flinched. He felt a jolt of guilt and then rush of grief as he realized what Hutch was doing.

 

This was the end of it.

 

This was partner putting his foot down. His surprise presence screaming: what’s it gonna be pal? A romp in the sheets with some girl. Or me?

 

Your loving partner. Your best friend.

 

Or maybe, just maybe, Hutch was done with all of it. Maybe he hadn’t come to talk Starsky out of anything, but to cut ties instead.

 

"Sorry," Starsky offered, his voice suddenly thick and eyes shining with tears.

 

All Starsky felt was shame. But Hutch refused to feed into his guilt. Hutch laughed but there was no joy behind the sound. Starsky heard his partner’s anger loud and clear.

 

"No," Hutch said forcefully. Clutching his glass in his hand, he shook his head. "I don't want an apology. I want a promise."

 

“O-kay,” Starsky choked, his eyes filled with unwanted tears and swiped his forearm across his face. The conversation was making him feel small, and Hutch's tone of voice making him feel even smaller.

 

"I want you to promise me that the next time you feel like running," Hutch stated. "You run to me." He placed his hand possessively on Starsky’s upper thigh.

 

Starsky’s wide eyes darted to Hutch’s, and he looked at him, shock etched in his features.

 

Them touching, in that manner, in public was forbidden. Dangerous.

 

But even at Starsky’s discomfort, Hutch didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he squeezed harder and looked at Starsky seriously.

 

"I mean it, Starsk," Hutch whispered deeply his tone taxed.

 

Starsky could only nod. Hutch’s tone was devastating.

 

It was one Starsky hadn’t heard in a long time, and never before had it been directed toward him. It was the tone that had become all too familiar to Starsky in the last few months of his partner’s marriage to Vanessa.

 

That tone said way more than words ever could. Things like: ‘you've backed me into a wall. You've broken my heart, but I'm still willing to try. I'm still willing to love you if you can turn it around.' It also told Starsky that Hutch was close to done dealing with his shit. He would walk away if Starsky didn’t pull it together.

 

It was then Starsky knew, he had made a huge mistake. A mistake that he hadn’t just made just once. No. He had done it over and over again with Hutch watching each time from the sidelines.

 

Hutch knew everything. He felt everything. Even if he didn’t show it.

 

Starsky moved his arms to rest on the bar, and he sunk his head in his hands.

 

What was his recurring mistake going to cost him?

 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Hutch,” he slurred. “I don’t know why…”

 

“Well you better figure it out,” Hutch growled. "I won't do this with you anymore. You can have me or you can have her—“

 

"I don't want her!” Starsky yelled, eliciting the attention of the bartender and a few of the patrons.

 

Hutch blew out a deep breath and smiled at their audience. This was not the time or the place to be having this conversation. Especially with the alcohol hitting Starsky as hard as it was. His partner already looked close to tears. The last thing Hutch wanted was public meltdown. Or worse, an angry tantrum.

 

"Your actions say otherwise, buddy,” Hutch murmured. He stood, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

 

Alarmed at his partner’s abrupt movement, Starsky turned on his barstool and quickly lost his balance. He would have fallen to the floor, but Hutch’s strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and righted him again.

 

That was Hutch, always catching him before he hit the cement. Pulling him back before he went too far.

 

“What—where you goin?” Starsky asked in panicky voice. He reached out and grabbed the side of Hutch’s shirt. Clasping it tightly, he looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

 

“I’m not leaving you,” Hutch responded gruffly. Strong fingers moved to unclench Starsky’s grip. “I’m taking you home and we’re going sort this shit out.”

 

Hutch’s words lingered in the air and Starsky knew he was in trouble. This wasn’t the real discussion. They would have that behind closed doors. Somewhere they could be fierce towards each other, with both language and sexual escapades.

 

Throwing a few bills on the bar, Hutch returned his wallet to his pocket.

 

“That oughta do it,” he nodded to the bartender, and grabbed Starsky by the arm. “Come on, buddy.”

 

“I can walk,” Starsky objected, trying to pull out of Hutch’s grasp. “It was only four shots, jeeze.”

 

“Oh, I know you can,” Hutch smiled slightly. “I’m just makin’ sure you don’t dart off on me.”

 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

 

Hutch held on tighter and Starsky relaxed in the touch as they pushed through the door. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Starsky couldn’t help a smile.

 

This was a good thing.

 

There was a more complicated discussion to be had, a sober apology to be given, and a lot of making up to be done, but for now it was okay. Because Hutch had come for him. He was there, willing and able to lead the way.

 

All Starsky had to do was trust him enough to follow.

 

END


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